


breathe

by rmaowl



Category: Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Eventual Fluff, Existential Crisis, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Sleep Deprivation, for now, ”ducking out”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:11:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13895970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmaowl/pseuds/rmaowl
Summary: "How did you sleep?" Thomas asks, and Virgil hears all the things that the question means.Did you get any sleep at all? Was it one of the bad nights? Is that why you were down here before anyone else? Are you okay?"Fine," Virgil forces out.





	1. Chapter 1

Fear thrums a persistent, continous tune under Virgil's skin, his heartrate accelerating and his breaths faltering. He's overwhelmed by the fact that there are so many other things he could be doing right now, despite the fact that he's currently supposed to be asleep. He worries about his own anxiety transfering to Thomas' dreams, but that just causes him more anxiety.

Counter-productivity is a terrible thing to be good at, Virgil decides as he slides out of bed. He has to remember that even if something does happen in Thomas' dreams, Princey will find a way to fix it. He has the most control over dreams and all that fanciful imaginary stuff, so he could easily conjure up a new hero to defeat the ugly villain or tamp down the panicked feelings on his own to prevent them from even touching the dream. It'll all be fine, and as long as Virgil doesn't become too overactive, he won't awaken Thomas at... whatever ungodly hour it is.

With a quick glance at a clock outside of the mindscape, it's confirmed to be around 3am. Not as bad as it could be, then. (He's stayed up until 7am at least three times, for purely anxiety-induced reasons, and that's only counting this year.)

Virgil sips in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest and the knots in his stomach. He exits the mindscape and pops up in Thomas' living room, because he has a feeling that his own room won't be of any help at the moment. This is his best choice, as it's his second most familiar place. (Familiarity is good, most times.)

Virgil steps into the kitchen and lingers there, opening and closing cabinets idly and without much purpose. He just needs something to do with his hands that isn't self-destructive. (Patton had lectured him on his less-than-healthy habits the other day, and Virgil had reluctantly agreed to try to give them up, at the very least.)

He walks over to the couch and settles down on it, taking in another deliberate breath.

_Breathe. Everyone's safe and you're okay._

He casts a hand in between the couch cushions and resurfaces with a TV remote. Pressing the power button, Virgil starts _Steven Universe_ from the very first episode, draping a blanket over his shoulders. He curls up as comfortably as he can and reminds himself to breathe. He tries to lose himself in the pretty color schemes and the often-childish humor and the pleasant, casual diversity of the show. He watches Ruby kiss Sapphire's neck, and the corners of his lips lift into a slight smile. He watches Garnet calm Stevonnie down with a lovely, meaningful song, and he quietly adds _Here Comes A Thought_ to his music library. He's in a hazy, half-asleep state for most of the show, and it's more background noise than anything, but he's _finally_ calmed down. He's peaceful and sleepy with a comforting blanket wrapped around him. He's not uneasy in the slightness, which is unusual in the best possible way.

He's scrolling through the 'trans lars' tag on Tumblr when the sunrise begins to filter in through the window with its soft, selective rays. He pulls the blinds all the way to one side and watches as the dark sky lights up in peaches, periwinkles, and powder blues. _Pretty_ flits across his mind, followed by _bitchin'_ , which elicits a snort from him.

"Good morning," greets a friendly, cheerful voice, one that Virgil knows. He still can't stop the wild, startled flinch that wracks his body.

"Thomas," he acknowledges with a incline of his head after he manages to calm down, trying to decide whether he can turn around and face his host or not.

"Is there a reason why you... came down here by yourself?" Thomas questions uncertainly. Virgil pauses, tries to figure out if he can answer honestly (or even answer at all).

"It was nothing big, I'm fine," he manages to get out, then quickly turns the conversation over to Thomas with a simple question. "How did you sleep?"

Virgil does want to know, wants to make sure his own distress didn't filter into Thomas' dreams, but it also doubles as a nice deflection. A bonus.

"I had some interesting dreams," he says, and Virgil freezes. He listens to Thomas shuffle around in the kitchen, but his gaze stays on the lightening sky. His hands grip the windowsill tightly, causing it to bite into his palms.

"How... so?" He asks, hesitant. His heart thuds in his chest. The gentle, peaceful ease from before is slipping right through his fingers.

"Interesting, like... Princey-let-his-imagination-get-away-from-him interesting. So many storylines and so many plot twists. Too many, honestly." Thomas laughs. Virgil lets out a quiet laugh of his own, but it's more relieved than amused.

"How did you sleep?" Thomas asks, and Virgil hears all the things that the question means. _Did you get any sleep at all? Was it one of the bad nights? Is that why you were down here before anyone else? Are you okay?_

"Fine," Virgil forces out. "I slept fine, okay? I'm just gonna... go. Things to worry about, existential crises to have, y'know?"

"Virgil—"

It's already too late. He's sunken down, returning to his room in the dark recesses of the mindscape.

 _Breathe_ , Virgil reminds himself. _Breathe._


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil fidgets roughly with his hands, fingernails pressing into them. He feels like he might cry if he even _breathes_ wrong.

Thomas was only looking to help. He understands that, had understood that from the moment his host began asking soft, hesitant questions.

And yet... it was difficult to open up.

He supposed to be the villain, the bad guy. He was a 'Dark Side', as Roman so theatrically called them. Although none of the others knew that yet, it was only a matter of time. They'd grow suspicious of him and force him to tell, or one of the other Dark Sides would tell his friends in hopes of dragging him back. The Dark Sides knew that he didn't deserve them. They knew that his friends wouldn't want him if they knew who he really was. It'd be back to the same clouded recesses of the mindscape, where Deceit lurked and whispered to him. Not that he didn't do that anyways.

Oftentimes, he feels like his negative impact outweighs his positive impact.

Which is why he's here, toying with the selfish idea of ducking out for a second time, under the pretense of wanting the best for Thomas.

He wants to drift in the quiet darkness again, floating and fading. He wants to worry about nothing, feel nothing, be nothing.

When he'd ducked out, his anxious energy became muted and suppressed. He grew increasingly detached and uncaring, forgetting who he was and what he knew, only brought out of his newfound home of silence by the unknown presences nudging at him. He became conscious then, as he re-entered his bedroom in the mindscape, previously-learned information slowly trickling back into his brain and drawing him into a state of full comprehension.

Wherever he'd disappeared to, it had been blissful and peaceful. He'd never considered that such a nice thing for him could send everything else into such disarray— and isn't _that_ the perfect metaphor for everything that involves him?

His breath hitches at the thought, and tears rush to his eyes.

Virgil hisses out a quiet, shaky curse.


End file.
